


Of friendship and love

by Cirilla9



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Bonfires, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, Late Night Conversations, M/M, oblivious men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: Guinevere confronts Lancelot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched. Again. Thanks to sasha_b's amazing fics.
> 
> (And the movie is lot less hurting my feelings when I see Lancelot/Guinevere dynamics as a non-romantic relationship.)

Guinevere joined him by the fire, sitting just next to him so he had to adjust his own position to make place for her, even though the two of them were the only people by that particular pyre. She sat so close that their shoulders brushed.

\- First I thought you were jealous over me, - the Woad girl stated, as always without any preamble going straight to the point.

Lancelot uttered a noncommittal short chuckle.

\- Then I realized you are jealous _of_ me.

The knight looked at her askance, his frown meeting her knowing smirk that widened even more at his expression. Guinevere turned her head to look at the flames to hid her growing amusement.

\- I should have seen it sooner, I don’t know why it took me so long. You two are so obvious… I blame my half-starved state when you’ve found me for that.

Now her small face pouted at the horrid memories but she shook it off quickly.

\- Maybe you’re still affected by their tortures, - said Lancelot, perhaps a tad more cruel than he intended. - You aren’t making any sense.

\- Of course I am! It’s not about me that you walk grumpy all the time; I’m not the reason why you’re so angry lately.

\- What do you want from me? An honest talk? To confide in you and tell you about my problems? Then know that you are the reason behind them. You and your stupid ideas you put in his head so he would fight for your people and become a slave to yet another higher purpose now, when he’s finally almost free of Rome!

\- See? _Him_. It’s all about him. Always.

Lancelot leaped to his feet, away from her proximity, away from her words whispered to his ear.

\- By the gods, why are we even having this conversation? – snapped Lancelot, more and more agitated in contrast to the unruffled calmness of Guinevere. – You want to go to him, go to him. You don’t need to ask my permission for that.

\- Don’t I?

Guinevere had that mysterious look in her dark eyes as if she knew far more than she was letting on. Lancelot didn’t like that. She seemed to know his answers without him even speaking the words aloud. She acted as if she was able to read one’s heart just by observing quietly.

She stood up and approached him once more, stopping too close, raising on her toes as if she was about to kiss him, her warm breath brushing his mouth as she spoke.

\- Perhaps it’s you who should go to him.

Lancelot laughed her suggestion off but had the uncomfortable feeling that she saw his sham for what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say... The movie was in TV again and I've returned to the long, long planned continuation of this fic. Here, have more of these idiots and be frustrated together with me because of their obliviousness:

The next time she approached him it was after a skirmish. After the initial doubts he had of the elfin woman taking a part in a battle, he had been unwillingly impressed by her skills. Still, he didn’t like her nor what she was doing to Arthur, manipulating him to join her cause.

\- I thought between the two of you, you’re the one more clever in these things.

Lancelot refused to look at her rather than his swords he had been cleansing from Saxon blood.

\- What things?

She kept stubbornly silent until he raised his eyes on her.

\- Why didn’t you go to him?

The mischievous glint in her gaze made her meaning uncomfortably obvious. It was no point as to pretend he didn’t know she was speaking of Arthur. Suddenly he found the snowy weather rather pleasant, snowflakes cooling his face that in that moment felt too hot.

\- He didn’t want-

\- Company?

\- Men’s company.

Guinevere chuckled. Lancelot returned to polishing his blade, angry.

\- You know nothing about him, - he spat. – About us. Don’t talk to me like you understood everything.

\- I have eyes, I see how you look at him and how he looks at you.

\- It’s not enough.

Lancelot stood up abruptly and walked pass her, sliding his swords into the sheaths on his back. Guinevere did not follow him but her words lingered in his thoughts.

They led him eventually back to her.

That evening he found himself standing next to the wagon she had initially traveled in. She was in the middle of washing off the blue battle paint from her lean body. She noticed him and held his glance until he himself turned away. He didn’t like the seriousness of that dark stare, the knowledge it seemed to carry.

She came as if summoned by his unspoken thoughts, as if reading his mind from that one glance. Her skin was fair again, she was wrapped in a warm robe, her breath came in puffs. She looked much less deadlier than on the battlefield but even though Lancelot still wore his armor, he felt at a disadvantage in the coming confrontation. Luckily, she didn’t start straight from the edgy topic.

\- Your home… what was it like?

That was another tender issue, though, so Lancelot tried to laugh it off. He crooked a smile at her.

\- We sacrificed goats, drunk their blood, danced naked around the fire…

But as she was not taking her wise, serious eyes off him, waiting patiently for a real answer, he conceded:

\- From what I do remember, there were oceans of grass, from horizon to horizon, further than you can ride. The sky, bigger than you can imagine. No boundaries.

\- Some people would call that freedom. That’s what we fight for. My people, my country… So you see, Lancelot, we’re much alike, you and I. And when you return home, will you take a wife?

\- No.

\- Why?

\- There is too much blood on my hands to live a family life.

Guinevere looked at him with that soul piercing stare, like she could see through his excuses. But she didn’t call him on that.

\- No family, no religion. Do you believe in anything at all? In someone?

\- You already know it. If not for Arthur, I would have left you there to die.

She didn’t flinch at his tone, she didn’t even look particularly judgmental. Perhaps she was right in that they were much alike. Guinevere only looked at him in wonder.

\- Then you were right.

\- About what?

\- I understand nothing about you and Arthur. If you like each other, why do not act upon it? Why wait if either of you can die from enemy arrow every tomorrow?

\- You speak like you haven’t met Arthur once, - Lancelot scoffed. – He’s a man of his ideals. And his faith is unwavering, too. Faith in a weak god that does not allow his worshippers be what they would. That brings strong men to their knees and forbids any carnal pleasure.

***

Arthur’s request to accompany him at scouting the enemy was surprising – they had Tristan for that and Lancelot was not a young lad anymore that could learn of trails from his commander – but Lancelot wrote it off to Arthur’s overgrown sense of duty toward the people they were escorting.

The snow was falling heavier and heavier by each day, its featherbed covering the earth, making everything whiter and seemingly purer, concealing the spilled blood. It also hid most of the tracks but the signs of great armed troop marching was still clear as a day to the experienced warriors’ eyes.

\- They’re passing the lake on the north, - Lancelot claimed.

\- So it would seem, - Arthur mused.

– It should give us some time. Perhaps we’d even manage to reach the Wall unbothered.

\- Perhaps…

Lancelot gave Griffin a reassuring pat on the neck as his horse standing beside him acted eager to run, snorting and tramping its legs in one place.

\- You seem distracted, - he noted as Arthur still hasn’t moved.

\- I wish to speak to you.

Lancelot looked funny at him.

\- We are talking.

But Arthur wasn’t amused.

\- What is it? – Lancelot sighed, wondering which of his recent complaints made Arthur think it was necessary to scorn him in private.

\- I know you long for her, my friend.

He certainly wasn’t ready for _that_. It took him a second to comprehend who Arthur meant.

-Guinevere? – he asked to assure himself.

\- I saw your exchanged stares, your shared talks late at night.

As always, taken by surprise, Lancelot’s defends were to turn it all into a joke.

\- Heh, what is this? A talk in which you tell me to keep hands off your girl? You don’t want to be raising my bastards like Bors is?

It was a failed attempt.

\- On the contrary, I want to tell you, if that’s your heart’s desire, I will step aside. I do not wish for this – or anything – to ruin our friendship. You’re my dearest friend, Lancelot. I hope it can always be so, no matter who we’ll choose to bond our lives with. What I have with you, I don’t want to sacrifice on the altar of jealousy.

The freezing air proved hard to breathe with all of a sudden. Lancelot’s voice caught in his throat.

\- If that is what you wish too, of course, - Arthur added at the prolonged silence.

Lancelot covered what little distance was between them in two steps and threw his arms around Arthur. The man went stiff at first, then relaxed in his embrace.

\- You’re the best man I know, Arthur. Of course I wish it, let no woman ever come between us. – He whispered fervently into Arthur’s neck, not daring to say more and ruin the moment.


End file.
